The Making of A Modern Warrior
by GhostForce1911
Summary: Per Ardua prequel. In older times, warriors were those who fought with great skill, but alone - not in a unit. But the modern battlefield is indiscriminate; bullets and bombs kill trained soldiers as easily as raw conscripts. Discipline and teamwork are what wins through, not hyper-skilled heroic loners. So is there a place for a warrior; what makes him any different from the rest?


**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything.

A/N 1: This is a companion piece to 'Per Ardua Ad Astra;' a more detailed look at the mission Harry recounts to Teyla from his previous career, 'Op BARRAS.' This operation did in fact take place, although I have done as much research into the sequence of events as I could, much of the mission is still classified as it is still under the British government's policy regarding any form of clandestine action known as the 'thirty year rule' - ie in another two decades we might get the full story.

Author's licence regarding the story has of course been taken;** this should in no way be considered a factual account.**

No disrespect is intended to the soldiers who took part, particularly not to those who were injured or to the families of those killed on the mission; similarly, the resemblance of any characters to real life is coincidental. The use of real-world names wherever possible are simply intended to convey realism, not factual accuracy.

**Special mention **to James H. Cobb's book, 'Sea Fighter,' the third book in the 'Amanda Garrett' naval thriller series; one of my all-time favourite books which provided many useful details of special forces movement and combat in mangrove areas; since 'Sea Figher' is actually set in Sierra Leone, and is apparently very well researched, I assume it is mostly accurate on those things.

A/N 2: As always, military jargon and British army slang is marked in bold in the text and is further explained in the glossary at the end of the chapter.

This can be read standalone, but will probably make more sense if you read the first two or three chapter of its parent story, **PER ARDUA AD ASTRA**. I've put this story in the same category (Stargate Atlantis/Harry Potter Crossovers) for that reason.

* * *

_**Per Ardua Ad Astra**_

**The Making of A Modern Warrior**

**Part One: Welcome to the Jungle**

* * *

5 September 2000 - Sierra Leone, West Africa

8°33'23" N, 12°47'48" W - Geri Bana, Rokel Creek

**OPERATION BARRAS**

* * *

There is a technique for moving quietly through water.

First, one must be at least waist deep, so water moved by the legs does not _slosh._ Second, all movements must be very deliberate; small, slow steps, keeping the weight centred, placing the feet very carefully.

The oppressive heat and the total blackout under the thick mangrove trees made the darkness almost a physical thing, like moving through treacle; only the visual aspect was alleviated by infra-red night-vision. Above the waterline, mosquitoes and various other forms of insect life did their best to suck any vulnerable skin dry. Leeches waited to latch on and do the same below the water.

It was, to say the least, a throughly unpleasant, hostile environment; and that was without even considering the enemy.

_Right foot … pause … scan … listen … left foot … pause … scan … listen … _

If there had been even the slightest source of light under the canopy, it might have illuminated the silhouettes of eight human torsos moving slowly but steadily up a side channel running off the Rokel Creek, thirty miles east-north-east of Sierra Leone's capital, Freetown.

It is startling how quietly a heavily-armed group of men can move through heavy undergrowth. All equipment is taped down, radios either turned off or set to whisper, breathing kept quiet and controlled. Rifle barrels and the occasional hand reach forward to gently move aside hanging vegetation, bending it without breaking it and thus leaving no evidence of their passage. Boots are lowered in millimetre increments, sensitive to the slightest hint of a slippery mangrove root or, on more solid land, a twig that might snap. Senses are on highest alert, tension in every movement, adrenaline pumping despite the lack of apparent combat. Insects, thorns, and other discomforts are simply ignored. The only thing that matters is the mission, and nothing can be allowed to compromise it.

The price for this intensity is paid in accelerated exhaustion and dehydration. A few hundred metres of such tension and terrain, particularly in the humid jungle climate, can easily be the equivalent of a five-mile **bergen tab**.

* * *

"_It was this kind of mental toughness [to walk for five days on suppurating flesh which had in places decayed to the bone] which the SAS was constantly looking for in the screening tests. Such qualities were not, of course, only to be found in the SAS but they were more in demand there than anywhere else. The order of priorities was intelligence, mental toughness, physical toughness. Without intelligence the other two qualities would not enable a man to survive and be useful, without mental toughness he would never reach the peak of his performance."_

_Phillip Warner, "The SAS"_

* * *

While the SAS shot into the limelight for the direct-action hostage rescue assault of the Iranian Embassy in 1980, their main function in the larger strategic picture has always been, like any special forces unit, intelligence gathering. Intelligence, as they say, is half the battle, and although the SAS have always excelled at shooting things and blowing stuff up, their primary purpose is to provide the higher chain of command with detailed, up-to-date and tactically relevant information concerning either a specific objective or the battlespace as a whole.

The core unit of the SAS is the four-man patrol; in fact, the basic tactical unit of the British Army as a whole is the four-man fire team. A normal infantry fire-team, however, is not expected to be able to operate independently and without resupply for long periods of time; for the SAS however, who of course _are _expected to do so, four men is considered to be perfect balance of being few enough in number to keep the risk of detection low while having enough manpower - and firepower - to carry enough equipment, weapons and any other materials required to accomplish the objective and overcome any hostile opposition if required.

To that end, SAS teams regularly carry unusually high-power weapons for such small squads, in order to punch above their weight. For Operation BARRAS, however, they only carried a bare minimum of such destructive devices. The recon teams now approaching Geri Bana, a village known to be the headquarters of a particularly psychotic Sierra Leonean rebel group called 'The West Side Boys,' only packed a lightweight load of firepower and ammunition, and did not wear body armour. Neither of those would keep them alive if they were discovered; only running the hell away after an initial burst of suppressive fire might help ... and probably not much.

There was a reason the troopers were already calling this mission, with their typical morbid sense of squaddie humour, 'Operation Certain Death.'

The recon teams would probably be in place for at least a week, and within a hundred metres of a well armed enemy that outnumbered them twenty-five to one for that entire time. To that end, they instead carried surveillance gear and rations for a long stay. This included parabolic microphones, telescopic scopes, cameras and the communications equipment to transmit the data from all that aforementioned equipment back to headquarters for translation and interpretation.

And batteries, obviously. Lots and lots of cumbersome ruggedised lithium batteries, about the size of a brick and probably heavier.

The recon team was a mix - two four-man units, each consisting of a pair from the SAS and a pair from the SAS's maritime counterpart, the Special Boat Service. The two units had become so fundamentally similar in nearly every aspect of training and doctrine that the merger had been seamless; despite this, this operation was their first time operating together integrated at the basic tactical level, rather than as separate units.

They had been inserted by Zodiac inflatable from upriver; another two teams were approaching from downriver. The SBS crew of the Zodiac had grounded on a sandbar and let the recon group slither over the side before withdrawing well before dawn.

Now, the two teams had reached a key point on their planned route. From the point-man, a hand signal was passed down the line; exaggerated so it was clearly visible through the hazy green of night vision goggles; a twirling circle directed at the ground, followed by a sharp downwards jab with a clenched fist. _'Final Rendezvous_.'

The signal was passed from man to man as they passed over the point it was first indicated; this was so they all knew exactly where it was, and wouldn't end up spread out over as much as several hundred metres.

A single radio click was sent when the eighth man passed the FRV. From here, the two four man teams would split up, circling around to approach the village from the north-east and north-west respectively.

Half an hour and two hundred meters later, the north-eastern patrol stopped, moving quietly out of the river into a stop-short on firmer ground. The patrol commander and one other man ditched their heavy rucksacks and went forward, leopard crawling over and under protruding roots to reconnoitre the route in to their first-choice observation post.

Half an hour later, they returned, and all four crawled in to hear their team leader's whisper.

"Route to the **OP** is clear. We'll set up here. Boyd, you're on first watch with me. Grab the parabolic mic and prepare to move. Archer, Tin Man, set up a hide back here and get sat-comms with Zero."

"On it, boss."

* * *

The British intervention in Sierra Leone had begun earlier in 2000, after the disarmament process - known as the Lomé Accord - to end the country's civil war had broken down. The observers of the United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone (UNAMSIL), who had been organising the disarmament were heavily outnumbered and outgunned, and the UN Security Council, fearing imminent massacres and the discrediting of their peacekeeping mandate in the eyes of Sierra Leonean civilians called upon the UK on May 3rd, as the country's former colonial power, to intervene directly rather than rely on the UN mission.

Britain demurred initially. It was already providing logisitical and technical support to UNAMSIL, and was heavily committed in the Balkans, Cyprus, Germany and the Falklands. Nonetheless, the required forces were available - just - and Britain was also heavily involved in Sierra Leone both politically, through the High Commissioner's office, and commercially. Prime Minister Blair was in favour of using military force for humanitarian intervention, and by May 5th, the decision had changed.

A reconnaissance and liaison team was dispatched, led by Brigadier David Richards, to assess the situation on the ground and advise on best use of military assets. The Amphibious Task Group was recalled from exercising off Southern France and, along with the carrier HMS _Illustrious_ and the Type 23 Frigate _Argyll_. 1st Battalion Parachute Regiment (1 PARA), Delta Squadron 22nd SAS Regiment - including Harry - and the relevant RAF transport units were issued warning orders for zero-notice deployment.

On May 6, the situation deteriorated considerably. Rebel forces (the Revolutionary United Front, or RUF) had blocked the road from the capital, Freetown, to Lungi Airport, the best location both to site intervention forces and evacuate civilians. Brigadier Richards' liaison group were reassigned as forward headquarters, and the designated intervention forces were forward deployed to Dakar, Senegal for a quicker response time.

With the RUF advancing on Freetown and in control of most of the rest of the country, Lungi Airport became a critical objective. On May 7, British forces arriving in Dakar were immediately sent on to Sierra Leone to secure the airport, which C Coy and Delta Squadron accomplished with minimal opposition. Evacuations - codenamed OP PALLISER began the next day, with over three hundred leaving in the next two days and five hundred by the end of the week.

Back in London, internal disagreements between the Ministry of Defence, the Foreign and Commonwealth Office and the Department for International Development meant that the full scope of the intervention had not yet been defined, and no clear rules of engagement had been issued. Britain was unwilling to subordinate the now in-country forces to the UNAMSIL's commanders, which the Security Council was pressuring them to do, lacking faith in UNAMSIL headquarter's competence.

The intervention was extremely unpopular with the British public, attracting accusations of 'mission creep' from the media and political opposition, and commitments elsewhere meant the brigade-sized force required to take command from UNAMSIL was not available.

Regardless, the simple presence of British soldiers - better equipped, better trained and better organised than the mish-mash multinational UN forces - along with the regular appearance of Harrier jets from _Illustrious_ over Freetown and the arrival of a Nimrod spyplane and an artillery battery at Lungi Airport caused the RUF to slow their advance. Sporadic skirmishes with UNAMSIL continued for several days until the 17th, when they came into direct contact with Pathfinder Platoon, 1 PARA at a village called Lungi Lol, near the airport.

The resulting firefight lasted four hours. The RUF attacked with RPGs and small arms, and were met with mortars and machine guns dug into entrenched positions; the Paras had been forewarned by SIGINT and fleeing refugees of the enemy presence. No British soldiers were injured, and the RUF withdrew, having suffered thirty casualties.

The RUF's leader, Foday Sankoh, was captured the same day by Sierra Leonean forces and the resulting infighting crippled the RUF leadership. The power vacuum, combined with the psychological victory of the defeat at Lungi Lol deterred further advances, and British High Command took the opportunity to switch-out the deployed units, recalling 1 PARA to their standby state as the national rapid-response force, while 42 Commando from the Amphib Group offshore deployed to replace them.

The next few months saw a hardening of the British policy. Objectives were now defined, and it was decided that the ongoing existence of the RUF was unacceptable for continued peace. There were no spare British forces to form the brigade-sized force for a direct confrontation, and the war was unpopular in Britain anyway. UNAMSIL were reluctant to leave their bases and disagreed with the British that a direct confrontation was required at all. Thus, forced to take the worst-available option, it was decided to begin training the makeshift Sierra Leonean government forces into a professional army to deal with the rebels themselves.

There were a few skirmishes - UNAMSIL bases across the country were under siege from the RUF, and required evacuation one by one. Eventually, only one was left, a detachment of 600 Indian Army Gurkhas at Kailahun. Negotiations for their safe passage went ahead but broke down and the appropriately named Operation KHUKRI military breakout was launched on 10 July, as the wounded were evacuated by the RAF and the Gurkhas fought their way out, suffering one casualty. The rest of the year was relatively peaceful, as the RUF and combined UN, British and SLA forces were locked in a stalemate until the SLA could handle it themselves.

The training initiative was called BASILICA and was initially based around a large detachment of 2nd Battalion The Royal Anglian Regiment at Benguema Training Centre, beginning 15 June. They were replaced a month later by 1st Battalion The Royal Irish Regiment, and from there the story got a little more … active.

* * *

This really was a crapshoot, Harry decided, as he watched the shanty-town through binoculars.

Hostage rescue was always dicy; and it was usually in a nice, controlled urban environment with lots of cover and possible entry points. Also, there weren't usually eleven hostages, and much, _much_ more importantly there weren't usually two hundred and fifty plus heavily armed hostage-_takers _in the way.

On 25 August, ten men from the Royal Irish, including the company commander Major Alan Marshall and one interpreter from the SLA had been captured when they mistakenly drove into the village of Magbeni, the headquarters of a particularly vicious militia group called the West Side Boys - along with their two Land Rovers, armed with fifty-calibre machine guns.

Negotiations for their extrication immediately began, and a 'proof of life' meeting was conducted on the 29th, during which another British captive, Captain Flaherty, covertly passed over a map of the village of Geri Bana including marking the building where they were being held in a handshake, inside a biro penlid.

On the 31st, five of the hostages were released in exchange for medical supplies and a satellite phone to continue negotiations. The West Side Boys spokesman, the self-styled 'Colonel Cambodia' conducted a long, rambling and often incoherent interview via satphone to the BBC, which allowed the Royal Corps of Signals to trace his location, confirming the hostages' presence in Geri Bana.

Further negotiations, however, did not prove fruitful. The West Side Boys were, as the name suggested, influenced heavily by American 'gansta' culture and rap music. Their name had originally been 'West Side Niggaz' but was changed to 'Boys' because the first would have been unlikely to have been used regularly on international news programmes; despite lacking any coherent political philosophy, publicity was known to be important to the leader of the WSB, the so-called 'Brigadier' Foday Kallay.

To what purpose, however, no one was sure. The BBC interview had only contained broad demands - renegotiation of the original peace deal, called the Lomé Accords and release of prisoners held by the government - and 'Colonel Cambodia' had been rather incoherent through most of it. Within a few days, that list had expanded to include immunity from prosecution, safe passage to take up university courses and guaranteed acceptance to the now in-training Sierra Leone Army. Many founding members of the WSB had been originally kicked out of the army for mutiny - Kallay himself was a former corporal.

If that list seemed utterly ridiculous, it was probably because the West Side Boys were frequent and prolonged users of locally-grown cannabis and cocaine bought with conflict diamonds, and were described as being "almost perpetually drunk" on the local moonshine of choice, palm wine.

Their behaviour was - at best - highly erratic. The cannabis caused them to be forgetful of previous discussions and the cocaine made them distrustful; it quickly became obvious negotiations were going nowhere, and would continue mostly to buy time for a rescue plan to come together.

* * *

Thus, Harry's presence in the mangrove mud of the Rokel Creek, watching the WSB get high, drunk and increasingly worrisome. Thanks to Flaherty, they knew where the British captives _had_ been held, but it seemed likely they'd been moved; the parabolic mics were no longer picking up British accents from that building as they had been the previous few days.

It was now September 9th. HQ had relayed that the WSB was no longer being viewed as 'someone we can negotiate with,' and the future of the remaining captives was looking increasingly tenuous. Harry's own belief was that an assault was likely in the next few days; the WSB's presence here, uncomfortably close to the capital, was unacceptable to the British and UN long-term strategy for peace and stability in Sierra Leone. They would have to be dealt with, either with the carrot or the stick, and since they seemed unwilling to reach for the carrot, the stick was going to have to be used.

"Movement." Harry's observation partner, Archer murmured. He was manning the microphone while Harry observed visually. "It's Kallay's voice, I think … and he sounds pissed, sir."

Harry raised the binos, looking for the yellow corrugated roof of the shack they'd identified as Kallay's laughable 'Headquarters,' and activated his powers, his green eyes swirling into solid obsidian; icy, inhuman, alien. He connected once again with the air molecules around him, heavy with moisture and humidity, then extended that awareness out across the town, mapping the buildings, streets and people by the silhouettes they cast in his 'inner eye.'

No, the Sybil Trelawney reference wasn't lost on him. Harry wished he _could_ divine what would happen in the next few days; now _that_ would be a power, but he'd do well enough with what he had.

Kallay - a weedy, physically unimpressive man - strode out through the bead curtain as he watched, and Harry followed his progress, catching glimpses of him and the squad of thugs following him between the rickety structures of the shanty-town as they made their way towards …

"Where's he going?" Harry muttered back, scribbling down the time and event on the green waterproof pad in the mud in front of him.

"I'm catching a few words, sir … sounds like he's going to see the prisoners."

"Roger." Harry refocused on Kallay. "And there's the new place they're holding them."

This wasn't unusual; Kallay had visited and taunted the hostages once or twice a day, and the first five prisoners released had recounted being blindfolded and put through a mock execution.

A man in British DPM uniform, blindfolded, bloodied and dirty, was dragged out of the hut. _This_ was different. Another followed, and another.

Another mock execution … or perhaps not a _mock_ execution at all.

"Shit." Harry hit his short-range Personal Role Radio's (PRR) transmit button. "Tin Man, Boyd, come in."

The other two members of their patrol were probably asleep in the secure area - or at least the 'more secure' area - to their rear. There was no such thing as 'security' this close to the enemy. Harry didn't like waking up his overworked men - they'd been on a four hours on, four hours off watch schedule for three days now, and while they certainly weren't at the end of their rope, being trained to handle sleep deprivation, lack of sleep still meant all four of them were more likely to make mistakes.

And outnumbered by, oh, a piddling little 25-to-1 as they were, mistakes would likely have _fatal_ consequences.

The two SBS guys would have had their headsets on, even when sleeping, but it still took a few seconds for them to wake up and kick into gear. _"Here." _

"Kallay just dragged the prisoners out. Pack up and move to the secondary OP in case we get an opportunity to give them some cover fire."

"_Roger, pack and move to secondary, out." _

"Keep watching." Harry ordered Archer, reaching for the larger SINCGARS RT-1523E radio. The SAS eschewed using the old British Clansman systems, and the Clansman's replacement, named BOWMAN, had been held up for a decade by Whitehall's legendarily inefficient procurement system. The SINCGARS was the American's standard radio, considerably superior to Clansman, and the SAS had forced London to supply them with the better equipment by dint of their usual tactic of bitching about how crap Clansman was so much that Whitehall had eventually given in just to get them to shut up.

"Hello Zero, this is Storm. Be advised, enemy movement around hostage location. Believed at this time to be another mock execution, over."

The other observation patrol chimed in immediately, as the other team's commander confirmed his report_. "Zero, Storm, this is Viking. We have Kallay moving to the hostages. Koatate is with him." _

That wasn't good. Koatate was the WSB's jailer. Torturer would be a more accurate description.

The reply was swift. _"Zero copies, Storm. Sunray says to hold fire. Negotiation call just ended badly, the Bravo's pissed but Acorn estimates he's not going to kill the hostages." _

"Roger, hold fire, out." Harry replaced the handset. _Easy for him to say._ 'Acorn' was the callsign for the British brigadier's staff intelligence officer, and the head honcho himself, Brigadier David Richards, was 'Sunray.' Harry agreed with their assessment, but that didn't make the scene any less tense to watch.

"_Boyd here, we're in position boss. Just give the word." _

"Negative, hold fire. Probably another fake, but if it isn't ..." Harry lifted a L96 sniper rifle to his shoulder, acquiring Kallay through the scope, "we'll improvise."

All four men watched, as Kallay passed down the line of prisoners, pontificating passionately on something or other. Archer kept up whispered relay of his speech from what he heard through the microphone; it was in English for the hostages' benefit. Then, with theatrical timing, the guards behind each prisoner cocked their weapons, and Kallay's speech rose to a fever pitch.

"Boss?"

"Hold your fire. He's just fucking with them." Harry kept his voice even and calm, knowing that even elite troops look to their officer for reassurance in a confusing situation like this one. "They're the only card in this idiot's hand, he's not going to shoot them."

_But he might,_ Harry thought as he continued to observe. _They're high as kites and drunk as skunks all the fucking time. Kallay's not exactly a model of rationality. _

But Harry's internal devil's advocate was, thankfully, proven wrong. Kallay's men levelled their rifles, muzzles touching the blindfolded prisoner's heads; Harry could see the mens' fear from here. Then, on command, triggers were pulled … and only clicks were heard. No gunshots.

All four of the hidden operatives breathed again. As the hostages were returned to their hut, and the guards dispersed, laughing and joking, some 're-enacting' the little scene they'd played out, Harry reached for the radio again.

"Zero, Storm. Execution was a fake, the show just concluded. Any new advisories at this time, over?"

The reply seemed hours in coming, but probably wasn't more than a minute.

"_Affirmative Storm, Viking, just in from London. Operation BARRAS has a green light. Prep for assault tomorrow at first light, further orders to follow. Zero, out."_

* * *

**Bergen Tab** - A Bergen is the larger type of rucksack the British army issues as standard equipment, not the same as a daysack, which is used when operating from a more secure area where the Bergens can be stashed. 'Tabbing', or a 'tab' is a 'Tactical Advance to Battle,' or patrolling while carrying Bergens; sometimes this is proper tactical movement, ie in a tactical patrol formation, but can also mean simply marching in column with full equipment; also known as a 'ruck march' in American terminology.

**O.P. - **acronym for Observation Post. Not to be confused with 'Op,' pronounced as written and not an acronym, a shorthand for 'Operation.'


End file.
